


Tirga

by Schuyler



Series: Come and Get Me [3]
Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-07
Updated: 2004-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/pseuds/Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I stay because Mihai believes. Because I love him, and I would not leave him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tirga

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura Kaye, who pushed me to do this, and FearlessDiva, who beta'd

It was hot, just hot enough to annoy. Klaus was beginning to hate Romania. He leaned against his balcony railing and stared out at the mud. He was pretty sure he was going insane. He had been in Tirga for three days and he couldn't remember anything but the mud plain behind the hotel and the tiny street in front of it. It had been a simple enough plan: Z would drop him in Tirga on his way to exchange pleasantries with some diplomats in Istanbul, Klaus would rendezvous with their informant, who would take him up to wherever the ring was headquartered, and from there Klaus would do a little surveillance before calling the office to get himself home. When he had arrived, the man at the front desk had informed him that Mr. Ellis had checked out the day before. Klaus had stayed the first night, so that he didn't arouse immediate suspicion, and then called Bonn. Where the Chief had told him, far too cheerfully, that if Klaus was still in Tirga, then Z could fetch him again in twelve days' time. "It's a spa, Major Eberbach! Enjoy yourself." The only two people in the world who believed this was a spa were the Chief and the cheerful desk man downstairs. Klaus rested his forehead on the railing, took a deep breath, and began to make his way downstairs. 

"Herr Klaus!" This time he had been spotted before he'd reached the lobby floor. Mihai was scurrying towards him. Mihai seemed to be behind the front desk twenty-four hours a day. Mihai was also, as he loved telling Klaus, the owner and proprietor of this, the finest spa in the region. Mihai was a head shorter than Klaus, but seemed to be everywhere at once, crowding Klaus on all sides. He talked mostly with his arms. Every time he mentioned the spa, he did a sort of waving mime for bliss. "Herr Klaus! We have not seen you since lunch. Will you not take advantage of the bath? Finest mineral waters in the area. You will never feel so alive." 

Klaus' balcony overlooked the 'bath'. It appeared to be a bottomless muddy pool and Klaus wasn't going within a hundred feet of it. "I think I will not." 

"Then perhaps, after dinner, you would like a mineral massage with Orsolya, yes?" Klaus strode out the front door. "Let me know!" 

The sun was still high and bright, which was a terrible sign. All Klaus had to do in this town was read and eat, and he feared that he was pushing his meals closer and closer together out of boredom. He had tried, on the second day, to wait as long as possible to eat, but when he had arrived in the restaurant, Orsolya had obviously been keeping the doors open only for him. The poor girl looked exhausted. Klaus waited breakfast the next morning so that she could sleep in. He had no doubt that Mihai was calling ahead to let her know Klaus was coming. 

This was, as far as Klaus could tell, the bulk of Tirga. Four buildings, two of which looked mostly abandoned, the hotel, and the restaurant. From the roof of the hotel, Klaus could make out more houses, what looked like a proper town, some ways down the road, and in the other direction, only what was perhaps a large barn. The rest of the panorama was mud, and then the river that began here, flowing away south. All in all, the restaurant was vastly preferable to staying around outdoors. It was cool and dark and wood paneled. Every table was set, but Klaus only ever sat at the second windowless booth from the door. Really, all there was to do in this town was eat. There was a lounge full of outdated newspapers that Klaus had not yet been desperate enough to read, and there were three meals here at the nameless restaurant. There were no menus, but lunch and dinner seemed to be tripe soup, every day. Mihai was fond of reminding Klaus that it was the national dish and should be celebrated, but twice a day for three days seemed like all the celebrating that Klaus could muster. Orsolya appeared out of thin air with his dinner, and he could have kissed her when she set it down. "Lamb chops!" She was not more than 20, but pretty and plump and had a bright smile that never faded. "Let us not tell Mihai." She turned over his wine glass and poured half a glass of red wine that was somehow a local specialty, but to be honest, Klaus had started to tune Mihai out after the first day. 

"Please," he asked, turning over the other glass. "Sit for a moment." He had begun to have some questions about this place, and talking to Orsolya would kill some time. "Do you get many tourists here?" 

She poured herself half a glass. "You and Mr. Ellis were the first in a very long time. But, Mihai has hope." 

"He does," Klaus cut his lamb chop with surgical precision. The lamb chop was excellent, but he was no longer picky. 

"The water here is good for the breathing, for the skin, for everything. It has minerals from the mountain. Now we finally have customer and he won't take the treatments," Orsolya teased. 

She jumped as Klaus' hand slammed the table. "Why must you both push me to take your 'treatments'?" 

Orsolya settled and shrugged. "I learned everything from books. I am eager to practice." She sipped her wine and watched Klaus eat. When the glass was empty, she stood and took the glass. "If you need anything, call for me." 

*

The next day, by the end of breakfast, Klaus was desperate enough to tackle the lounge. The room was dominated by a painted map on the far wall, showing the region in detail. The papers were stacked two feet high, next to a moderately comfortable club chair, and were not in any sort of order, by date or language. He saw three bright pink copies of the Financial Times, and two Le Mondes right on top of the stack, but the majority of them were the Romanian and English papers from Bucharest. He started on the English ones, which went back months, and used the Romanian ones to make a second, more orderly pile. He read quickly, so it was fairly probable that he would have to start brushing up on his Romanian once he finished with the English, but reading the Romanian perspective on events of the last half year was preferable to doing nothing at all. He successfully dodged Mihai until he entered the lobby after lunch (more lamb chops). "Herr Klaus!" Mihai hovered about him again, waving his arms and chattering while walking backwards. "You cannot stay cooped up in here all day! Do you not want to take a dip in the mineral pool before the sun goes down? The snowflakes in the mountains wear away those minerals and bring them down here before going off to feed the mighty Danube!" 

Klaus thought a moment about the mud and silt pit that Mihai kept claiming was a pool. "No! Leave. Me. Alone." As he stormed off, he regretted that the lounge had no door to slam. He had left off with the society page of the English paper. The papers themselves were not thick, and if he skipped any parts at all, he'd be done far faster than eight days. He read about weddings of people he was not interested in, and gallery openings of artists he had never heard of. He turned the page, then paused, and turned back. There was a photo at the bottom of a blonde in an ostentatious suit, and it couldn't be anyone else. He folded the paper in half and looked closely. The picture was of Dorian sitting between two older ladies. Klaus thought he should have been more surprised. Truth was, he'd become accustomed to Dorian showing up wherever he was. It would have been a little letdown if Dorian hadn't somehow wormed his way into this colossal blunder of a mission. The caption read "Madame d'Arbanville, Lady Edgson, and Lord Gloria at the Angelescu auction Friday morning." Klaus turned the paper over and checked the date. The picture was only a day old. He went back to read the rest of the article. It seemed that the Angelescu family was breaking up its art collection, the largest and most renowned in Eastern Europe. Klaus began to ponder whether Dorian was there to buy or steal. 

It was still on his mind when Orsolya cleared his place at dinner. "You seem lost in thought, Herr Klaus." 

He shook his head. "'S nothing. Orsolya, can I send a telegram from here?" 

She nodded and poured a little more into his wine glass. "Of course. Mihai can take it." Klaus finished his glass and then went back to his room. He stood out on the balcony and smoked two cigarettes in a row. It seemed flighty, at best, that he would even consider contacting Dorian for a way home. That was desertion of the mission. However, technically, the mission had been scrubbed and his other option was staying another eight days at the spa. The Chief had merely informed him that, should he still be in Tirga in eight days, Z would be through and able to offer transportation back to Bonn. The moon was full and bright enough that he could see the ominously bubbling mud pit. Of course, the faster he got back to Bonn, the faster he could get back to work. He smoked another cigarette slowly and then went down the stairs towards the lounge. It was past midnight, and there was Mihai, standing fully lit behind the front desk, looking cheerfully at nothing at all. 

"Mihai!" Klaus barked, more out of habit, and perhaps a little hesitation, than anger. 

"Herr Klaus! How can I help you?" 

"I need to send a telegram." 

Mihai pulled a blank form for that exact purpose from a drawer. "Certainly, sir. It is ten cents American a word." 

"To Dorian Red Gloria at the Hotel Caro, Bucharest." 

"A fine hotel," Mihai said as he scribbled across the form. 

"Message: When you are finished with your business in Bucharest, if you are heading back to your flat in Bonn, would you be able to take me along? Klaus Eberbach, Tirga, Romania." 

"Thirty-one words, sir. That's three dollars and ten cents. You can save ten cents if you put a contraction there in the second part." 

"Send it as it is. Charge it to the room." Klaus turned sharply from the desk and went back into the lounge. If the map on the wall was correct and to scale, Bucharest was maybe only 150 kilometres away. The way Dorian drove, that was less than an hour and a half. Probably, Dorian had driven one of his silly tiny sportscars and the trip back would be cramped and uncomfortable. Dorian would insist on stopping absolutely everywhere and it would take four or more days to get back. Or, more likely, he had taken the train, or flown, and Klaus would be trapped here, waiting for Z. Klaus stared at the map for a while longer, and then wandered up to bed. 

*

Mihai knocked before Klaus had made it out of bed. "Herr Klaus! Telegram!" Apparently no one in Romania slept. Klaus balanced his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and slid out of bed. Mihai slid the telegram under the door and Klaus snatched it up in one fluid motion. He tore it open as he padded back to bed. "Darling! Of course I will come for you. Am tying up some things this afternoon. Noon tomorrow. Dorian." 

It was typical Dorian. Ten cents a word and he wasted a whole dime on darling. Klaus finished his cigarette and took a shower. By the time he was dressed, he had decided that Dorian's telegram demanded a response. He stormed back to the desk where Mihai was waiting. He already had a telegram form out. "To Dorian Red Gloria at the Hotel Caro, Bucharest. Probably before tomorrow you will get waylaid or distracted. I will understand if you are not here. Klaus Eberbach, Tirga." 

Mihai did not calculate the cost this time, merely scuttled to the back room to get out of Klaus' way. Klaus returned to the lounge, and stared out of the window. This one faced down the road, to that second town. He wondered why those people didn't come up to the restaurant, at least. He wondered what they thought of the mineral waters. 

*

"You skipped breakfast, Herr Klaus!" Orsolya lamented as she set lunch in front of him. 

"I lost track of time," he muttered. They were back to tripe soup, but Orsolya produced a mug instead of the usual wine glass and poured it full of beer. When he looked up, her smile was out full force. Orsolya turned to go and Klaus surprised himself by grabbing her wrist. "Please, sit." Orsolya eagerly slid into the booth and set the beer bottle on the table. There was a little left in the bottom. "Have you ever tried it before?" 

She looked dubiously at it. "Once or twice, when I was younger." He turned over the wine glass at her place and nodded at her to go on. She cautiously poured a little into her glass and took a sip. "Oh! This is much better than I remember. Though, I bought the best I could find for you." She sipped at it again. 

Klaus had a bit of the soup while he tried to think of the right way to ask his questions. "Are you from here, Orsolya?" 

She nodded. "Close, at least. From Tirga, down the road." 

"This is not Tirga?" 

"It is ..." Orsolya struggled a moment to find her words. "Tirga is closest town. This isn't really anywhere. But we, Mihai and I, we are from Tirga." 

"Why do you stay here? Is your family here?" 

"No," Orsolya chuckled once and then finished her beer. "My parents live with my sister in Bucharest. I stay ... I stay because Mihai believes. Because I love him, and I would not leave him." She smiled and looked down at the table, perhaps a little embarrassed. 

*

"Herr Klaus!" Mihai called when Klaus returned to the hotel. He held out another brown telegram. Klaus strode to the front desk and tore it open there. 

"Don't be silly," it read. "Noon tomorrow at the station." 

"There is a station?" he asked Mihai. 

Mihai waved his hands about. "Of sorts. It's just down the road here, to the bottom of the hill." He gestured away from Tirga proper. "This hotel is the most convenient to the station." Klaus nodded and read the telegram again. "I mention this to your Lord Gloria on the phone." 

"He called?" Klaus said, sounding perhaps a little more accusatory than the situation called for, but Mihai did not seem to notice. He just nodded. 

"He sounded very interested in the spa, but I directed him to the station. Perhaps sometime, he will like to come out here for the mineral treatments. Will you need to send out laundry before you leave, Herr Klaus?" 

Klaus looked at Mihai out of the corner of his eye. "You did not ask if I wanted to go stand around in your little pool." 

Mihai shrugged. "You don't want to go. After a while, I give up." 

Klaus went upstairs to pack. As he folded the endless polo shirts he had packed for July in Romania, his mind wandered to the idea of spending four days traveling with Dorian, on their way back to Bonn. It was no longer a detested idea. It would be, as the Chief had suggested, a vacation. Things had changed in the last twelve months. There had been the mission in Vienna, which went well, then the afternoon when the Chief had called Klaus in to tell him he had asked for Dorian's help in Helsinki, and Klaus had not had an outburst. And after Helsinki, Dorian had purchased the apartment in Bonn. Still, when Klaus was on long, numbing missions, he thought about Helsinki. 

*

That night at dinner, there was another party in the restaurant. Orsolya served "Beef steak!", said triumphantly in her high voice as she presented it to him. 

Klaus gestured at the party of five loud adults. "Are they staying in the hotel?" 

"No, no," Orsolya poured his half glass of wine and shook her head. "They are traveling from Pitesti to Ionesti. We are about in the middle." She used the edge of her apron to catch a drop on the edge of the bottle. "Mihai tells me you are leaving." 

He nodded. "Tomorrow at noon. I am afraid I will miss lunch." 

"Tripe soup again. You are not missing much. The hotel will feel empty." Orsolya was a sweet girl. 

"If you keep pouring your wine, they will have to stay," Klaus said conspiratorially, gesturing at the new party. "That will ease Mihai's pain." 

Orsolya smiled and winked and then slipped quietly away. 

*

Helsinki had been cold, but Dorian kept saying that the constant snowfall made it feel magical. They'd been cooped up all day in the safehouse and then gone out at nightfall to commit a little breaking and entering in the service of NATO. Dorian had been in absolutely top form, sliding into a third floor window from the roof and disabling the embassy's security system alone. He'd reacted quickly when the mission was nearly jeopardized by a security guard who strayed from his prescribed route and he hadn't touched anything that wasn't NATO-approved to take home. He had been fast and silent and gotten the objective completed ahead of schedule. But he had still looked as timid as a kicked puppy when he appeared in Klaus' doorway that night, his arms crossed and his head tilted down. He didn't seem to have the words to say what he wanted to express, which was rare indeed for Dorian. Neither of them had talked about Vienna, but Dorian's smile when Klaus had taken his hand and tugged him inside had erased all need. 

*

Mihai was quiet the next morning as he totaled Klaus' bill and Klaus told him where to send it. "It has been a pleasure, Mihai. I thank you." 

"I am sorry that you did not want to take advantage of our treatments, but it was very nice to have you here. Please come again, Herr Klaus." 

Klaus wanted to say something about Orsolya, but instead hefted his bag and went out the main doors. The red station wagon he had passed the night before was still parked in front of the restaurant, so it seemed that Orsolya had ensured five more guests for Mihai. Klaus hadn't actually walked at all in either direction, neither towards Tirga or away, but when he got past the abandoned buildings and down the slight rise, he could see that what he had thought was a barn was in fact a hangar. It was the first word Mihai had gotten wrong. There were no cars parked out in front, so he walked around to the back and there he saw it. A white Learjet with Dorian's crest painted on the tailfin sitting on the tiny strip. In a way, it sort of figured. At a certain point, he was going to have to stop believing that he could anticipate Dorian's actions. Klaus crossed the worn runway and went up the steps to the open rear cabin door. The inside was done all in cream and gold and so was Dorian. Dorian leapt up from his seat at Klaus' entrance. "Klaus!" He wore a white suit with a long matching scarf and he looked refreshingly normal. 

It felt like an age since anyone had said his name without the Herr in front of it. He set down his bag. "Dorian." Klaus leaned up against the rear row of seats as if it were a bar. The fabric on the seats felt soft and luxurious. "How was Bucharest?" 

"It was wonderful. I wish you could have seen the collection." 

"Did you go to buy?" His fingers itched for a cigarette, but he felt somehow that the smoke would turn the whole place gray. It was very bright in the cabin. 

"No, just to look. The whole collection has been shut up in their Manor for centuries. This was the only opportunity to see some of the greatest works of art." Klaus waited a moment. "Okay, I did buy one tiny thing for my bedroom in Bonn, but it was so beautiful." Dorian fell gracefully back into his seat again. "You can see it when it's been properly installed." Klaus chose the seat opposite Dorian and crossed his legs. Dorian stared at him as though waiting for something. "Klaus, you haven't said anything about my *plane*." 

"I had assumed that you had taken the train, or driven down in one of your silly cars. But this is ... expensive." Dorian looked a trifle hurt at that. "And very nice." 

"Well, the jet was a little birthday present to myself. Besides," Dorian shifted to the side so he could lean on the armrest, "the trip would have taken ages in the car." 

Klaus shrugged. "I admit, I was looking forward a bit to the time." 

Dorian smiled brightly at him. "Well, darling, no one says we have to go straight home."


End file.
